


what to do with idiot boyfriends who get shot

by books_and_spite



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Vigilantes, Established Relationship, Fights, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Minor Violence, rushed ending, sorry i kinda lost motivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/books_and_spite/pseuds/books_and_spite
Summary: It was supposed to be a normal mission. Get out quick without any injuries. Unfortunately, things don’t go as planned. Fortunately, things get better, really quick.
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 26





	what to do with idiot boyfriends who get shot

**Author's Note:**

> sorry because (a) idk how wounds work and (b) this is really trashy

James winces as Thomas presses the trigger again. “I think you can stop now.”

Thomas doesn’t look up as the bullet blasts through what’s left of the gang lord’s brain. It isn’t pretty, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the sight. The blood and the gore and the revenge he’s taking. “I just want to be sure-”

James flicks a hand and the gun flies out of Thomas’ grip and into his. “You shot him thirty-eight times in the head, or what’s left of it. Trust me, he’s very _very_ dead.”

Thomas glares at him and extends a hand for the gun. “He was a monster.”

“He’s also dead,” James points out. “He can’t feel anything anyway. Don’t waste your time. Or your ammo.” He looks down at the body disdainfully. “Let’s just get this thing out of our sight.”

Thomas nudges it with his foot, grimacing when the blood stains his white sneaker. “Alright.”

James stares at the body for about two seconds, then lets his own bullet fly. It lodges between what’s left of the body’s ribs. He tosses the gun back to Thomas and snaps his fingers- and the body disappears, leaving no trace that they were ever there.

Thomas snorts. “Practice as you preach, much?”

“One time,” James replies, “not thirty-eight.” He smiles slightly. “I do have self-control, unlike _somebody.”_

“You love me,” Thomas smirks.

“I do,” James readily agrees, “but you’re a fucking idiot sometimes.”

“Fine, fine, let’s just fucking _go,”_ his boyfriend groans, and tries to spin on his heel. Of course, the fact that he literally collapses in the middle of doing so makes it both a) hard to take him seriously and b) absolutely terrifying.

Blood starts seeping through his jacket, near his ribs.

“Fucking _hell,_ Thomas-”

James dives to his side, shrugging off his own jacket to press it to the wound, getting Thomas out of his jacket and shirt in a familiar dance. Years of being a vigilante has lead him to expect things like this, honestly, but- it scares him. It’s never been like this before, _they_ always managed to get away with minor injuries, and they always had a healer with them.

They were _them_ for so long before all _this._ Twenty-oneyears of friendship _._ Five of love.

He cannot lose Thomas.

He _can’t._

It would destroy him. 

Thomas, the fool, has one power. The power to just up and ignore pain and injury until he’s ready to face it. Sometimes the pain comes rushing back at... bad times. His injuries are healed somewhat by his powers, but he could still die, and James is not about to let Thomas _die-_

He has to fix this.

Thomas lets out a gasp as James presses right on his wound, a single sob escaping. “Fuck.”

“Shh, you’ll be okay, it’s not the first time,” James tells him, pressing again and wincing when Thomas lets out a strangled whimper. “I’m sorry.”

Why is there so much blood, Thomas is practically crying, but still he forces out- “Not your fault. Ouch. Jemmy. Not your _fault.”_

“Save your strength and stay alive, for fuck’s sake, _Thomas!”_ James hisses, almost hysterically. “I can’t lose you, not like this.” He is desperate. Save Thomas, save him, _save your life._

Thomas opens his mouth again. Of _course_ he does. “Eliza.”

Of course. Eliza Schuyler. The healer of their little group. She can heal anything. He really needs to stop panicking. 

James carefully presses against the wound one more time. “Okay. Okay.”

With his free hand, he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts scrolling through his contacts. _Eliza Schuyler._ There. He presses _Call_ and waits.

Thomas is trying to control his sobs. “Jemmy, James, _fuck-”_

He breaks off into a gasp.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here, you’ll be fine,” James chants. Who is he trying to convince? Himself, or Thomas?

Eliza finally picks up as he comforts Thomas. _“James? What happened?”_

“Thomas got shot,” James tells her. “Between the ribs. Didn’t notice until now, it was about half an hour ago. Get here now.”

_“I’ll get Angelica to teleport me,”_ she says, voice hardening. _“Where are you?”_

James rattles off the address. “667 Dark Avenue. Please, Eliza-”

She and her sister appear by his side before he finishes his sentence. Eliza nudges him away before pressing her hands to his side. “Thomas? Are you okay?”

The bright green magic she wields is already dancing around the wound. James sighs in relief as he watches it close. He twitches a finger and the blood is cleared away. 

He hasn’t processed it yet. He doesn’t _want_ to. 

“You okay?” He asks instead, hovering nervously. 

“Wasn’t that bad,” Thomas grunts. “Just... a lot of blood.” He cracks a grin from the ground, sitting up. “Thank you, Eliza. And your sister, my dearest, Angelica!”

Angelica Schuyler sends him a disapproving look from where she stands behind James. “I swear, one of these days I will skin you, Jefferson.”

“You haven’t yet, my love,” Thomas laughs. James grabs Angelica’s wrist as she narrows her eyes, and gives Thomas a warning look. 

Eliza sighs as she pulls out a roll of bandages from her backpack and starts wrapping the wound. “Really, Thomas, stop flirting with my sister.”

“Why?” 

“Shall we go?” James interjects. “Washington will be expecting us. And I’d rather not lose a boyfriend to the wrath of Angelica Schuyler.”

“Spoilsport,” Thomas pouts, but stands up as Eliza finishes pinning the bandages. 

Angelica extends a hand to him, other hand still in James’ grip. “Eliza, dear, grab James’ hand.”

The middle Schuyler slips her hand into James’ as Thomas clasps Angelica’s, and the next moment they’re whirling back to headquarters. Angelica, used to teleporting, lands perfectly on her feet; Eliza, her partner, does so slightly less elegantly, but manages fine.

James and Thomas, on the other hand, land in an undignified heap. 

...On top of each other.

Yeah, that would be less of a problem if Thomas wasn’t still currently shirtless and pressed into James’ side. 

(It’s not a _problem,_ per se-)

James’ heart flutters like he’s some fucking damsel in distress. So many years of being in love, and he still can’t handle any form of contact. Thomas is just that amazing, honestly.

He climbs to his feet and offers Thomas a hand, not letting go even as his boyfriend pulls himself up. Eliza runs to Thomas’ side, poking lightly at the bandages around his wound, letting a gentle green spark fly from her finger.

“Bed rest for you, Thomas,” she decides. “No missions for two days, at least. Your healing will speed up the recovery, but don’t push it.” She gives him her best glare, then turns it on James himself. “And you, James, you’d better make sure he takes care of himself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” James salutes Eliza. Thomas just gives her a winning grin. 

They head back to their room, Thomas still shirtless and leaning on James, James himself with an arm over Thomas’ shoulder. 

He practically shoves Thomas (gently) into their bed. “Rest, you absolute idiot.” Thomas pouts and bats his eyelashes and oh _fuck_ he really can’t handle this. How long have they been dating? Not long enough for James not to become a mess whenever Thomas looks at him right, that’s for sure. 

“I am fine, James,” he says pathetically. 

“No, you’re not,” James says firmly, decidedly not looking at his boyfriend.

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not.”

“At least come here so I can cuddle you,” Thomas whines.

James sighs. “Fine, you idiot,” he says, and shrugs off his long coat, throwing it over his chair. He climbs into their bed and lets Thomas wrap his arms around him, pressing himself close. 

Thomas runs his fingers through James’ hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” James says, “but _stop getting shot_ , okay?”

Thomas laughs, brightly. “Okay.”


End file.
